


Make Me Up

by D_f_m22



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_f_m22/pseuds/D_f_m22
Summary: Make up can be a powerful thing





	Make Me Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RotwangRevived](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RotwangRevived/gifts).



“I got you a present,” the Doctor said quietly, running a comb through Missy’s still damp hair. He had learned years ago that her hair needed to be combed as soon as it was washed otherwise it would get knotty and then frizzy and then she’d complain endlessly. “Would you like to see it?”

The Doctor watched as Missy rested her palms on the flat of her thighs, tapping her index finger in a controlled pattern of four. They were trembling and the Doctor wondered if Nardole had given her something to help her sleep but quickly dismissed as he remembered that this fidgeting had been a habit for some time. Several life times, in fact. It seemed that even when the Master was apparently still, they weren’t. There would always be a hand tap or a leg twitch as unspent energy bubbled under the surface in even the quietest moments. Speaking of quiet, the Time Lady was unnaturally quiet again and it seemed to take her a long time to process anything. The Doctor reasoned that that made sense- after centuries of racing around and having barely a second to process a single thought it would take some time to adjust to a new, slower pace of life. The Doctor was happy to encourage her more thoughtful approach to life. The vault was silent and the faintest smell of lavender lingered- a remnant from Missy’s recent bath. Crouching down next to Missy, the Doctor placed the comb down on the edge of the sink. There was so little noise in the bathroom, that the ivory fine-toothed comb made a noise much greater than itself and echoes ricocheted off every tile. The disturbance attracted Missy’s attention, she wasn’t particularly startled by the noise in the same way she would have been if she was in a more fragile mood. Rather, she was tiredly interested. As Missy turned to face the Doctor, the fluorescent light highlighted just how pale she was without her usual made up face. The Doctor sighed- a few years ago, he’d have been happy to see the Mistress dressed down. It was- he thought- a chance to see underneath her perfectly sculpted mask. Decades ago though, this- just after bathing- would have been the only chance he had to see Missy without make up. Now, it was every day. With every day that went by, Missy seemed to care less and less about her appearance. Most days, she donned the same yoga pants and oversized top. Her hair was piled messily on the top of her head except for hair wash days when the Doctor could often convince her to let him braid it for her. She hadn’t worn make up in at least ten years. It was strange, her new human look had a way of making her look more alien. Somehow, with all the eccentricities stripped away, Missy’s madness shone brighter. It was as though it had nowhere to hide and all the sadness and hurt and anger shone brightly on the blank canvas of the Time Lady’s face. The Doctor couldn’t face looking at her much longer, they had both always hidden their insecurities under extravagant costumes. For Missy, her current body had favoured make up but in the past had enjoyed capes, catsuits and over the top moustaches. Without her armour, she looked so far removed from who she was meant to be and the Doctor couldn’t rid himself of the guilt that he had caused that. Deciding he couldn’t face the silence any longer, the Doctor tried again. 

“Earth to Missy,” the Doctor said, waving his hand in front of Missy’s face. “Are you there?”

“Does it always have to be Earth?” Missy asked drily. Stretching her arms out in front of her, Missy clasped and unclasped her still trembling hands in her lap. “I’m bored enough. If Earth is calling, I’m definitely better off in my own mind.” 

The Doctor stood, knees creaking as he stood up and a goofy smile spread across his features. There was enough of Missy left to give him a derisive response. That was good enough for him. 

“We are on Earth,” the Doctor retorted. “If I was calling from anywhere else, we’d have problems. Anyway, now you’re back with the land of the living, did you hear what I was saying?”

Missy stood, mirroring the Doctor’s actions as she crossed the floor and pulled on her dressing gown. As she passed the mirror, the Doctor noticed the way she consciously averted her gaze. The Doctor hated how self-conscious she had become, though he suspected she had always been more self-conscious than her behaviour let on. In the past, she had been able to hide behind an over the top costume and equally over the top act. Now that was gone, all her insecurities- liker her madness shone brightly. While the Doctor was musing over the changes he’d seen in his friend, he was plunged into darkness. Clearly, he had got lost in his thoughts again. 

“You might enjoy sitting in the darkness, but I’m going to get my tea.” 

“You turned the light off,” the Doctor retorted in response to Missy’s breezy comment as he stood up and followed in the path of the Time Lady. “Are you deliberately ignoring me?”

By the time the Doctor reached the kitchen, Missy was serving up two mugs of cranberry tea. The Time Lord watched as Missy sprinkled a dash of mint over the steaming beverages while shifting from foot to foot. Evidently, it was going to be particularly difficult for the Time Lady to sit still tonight. 

“I heard you,” Missy sang with a playful lilt. “You got me a present. Now tell me, would you like mint in your tea?”

The Doctor frowned, eyebrows pinching together as he looked from Missy to the tea. Both mugs already had a sprinkling of mint over the top. 

“You’ve already added mint, Missy,” the Doctor said. 

Missy looked down, shoving her trembling hands into her dressing gown pockets. She looked at the teas and nodded thoughtfully. 

“So, I have,” Missy said in agreement. “I suppose you’re having mint whether you like it or not.”  
“I would have preferred rhubarb,” the Doctor said as he sat down in the chair closest to the heaters. He made no comment on Missy’s obvious anxiety and instead returned to the original topic of conversation. “Do you want to see what I bought you or not?” 

Missy crossed the floor carefully, carrying the two mugs of tea and placing them on the coffee table. She bypassed the seat next to the Doctor, opting to sit on the rug in front of him instead where she stretched both legs out in an open split pose and looked up at the Doctor while demonstrating the full scope of her flexibility. The Doctor ignored it, deciding that a bit of stretching was preferable to some of the ways she used to expel excess energy. So far, this method hadn’t resulted in any smashed crockery. 

“If you’re going to make such a song and dance about the present, I suppose I’ll bite,” Missy answered. “What new wonders have you bought me, honey?” 

XXXXXXXX

“Not a 3D printer then?” Missy commented, placing the pastel box of unopened foundation down next to the scattering of other make up treats. “Shame, I thought you might have finally bought me something useful.” 

The Doctor hid a disappointed frown at Missy’s muted reaction, biting back his own thoughtless retort at her scathing comments. The Time Lord had spent the last month travelling the universe in search of the most exquisite cosmetics. He’d hoped the treat would lift her spirits and she’d stop being so distant . 

“I out haggled the Sheik of Jupiter for that mascara,” the Doctor sighed. A sullen expression clouding his features as he reluctantly started to pick up the remnants of the gift wrapping that were scattered around Missy’s feet. The Time Lady peered down at him with a self-satisfied smirk, she always had enjoyed seeing the Doctor on his knees. “I thought you’d like some new make-up.”

“I liked my old make-up,” Missy stated with a casual flick of her wrist. “It was much more…explosive.”

The Doctor’s scowl deepened as he looked up at Missy.

“And poisonous if I remember rightly,” the Doctor said. “I got rid of that when you first started your sentence.”   
Missy pursed her lips, resenting the emphasis the Doctor put on the word sentence. 

“Shame,” Missy said bitterly, “A girl does like to look pretty.” 

“I bought you some non-deadly makeup years ago but judging by your appearance , you haven’t bothered to use it once.”

The Doctor smiled to himself at what he thought was his witty retort, but he quickly felt a growing sense of dread as he was met with a deadly silence. It reminded him of the silence that met him when he had asked River if she was really going to have the second slice of fudge cake. The silence seemed to last forever, until a cackle interrupted it. The Doctor watched as Missy threw her head back, a cold laugh slipping from her lips as a stray hair fell from its braid. Suddenly, the laughing stopped and Missy looked straight up at the Doctor with an icy glare. 

“Tell me dearest, is the make up to make me feel better or is it for yourself?” 

XXXXXXXX

“Can I give you a make over?”

The Doctor looked up from his jacket potato and over at Missy. The Time Lady was sat cross-legged by the electronic fire, lazily flicking through a magazine. The new makeup had remained unopened and was placed neatly in a wicker box. 

“What?” The Doctor asked, a perplexed look on his features. 

“A make over,” Missy repeated. “For you. I could shape your eyebrows and I think this smoky eye look would really suit you. I suppose I’ve got to put your present to some use…”

The Doctor nodded slowly at this, rising from his seat and crossing the floor to meet Missy. 

“I suppose I’ve got nothing better to be doing.” 

“I’m not surprised,” Missy drawled, standing and collecting the box of cosmetics and motioning for the Doctor to sit down opposite her. “I’m going to make you beautiful.” 

XXXXXXXX

“Make up is the great disguise for the everyday,” Missy said, biting her lip in concentration as she applied the last bit of blush to the Doctor’s cheeks. “My beautiful boy.” 

The Doctor scowled at the compliment but did admire his reflection in the mirror- Missy had done a good job, even if it wasn’t the use he’d initially imagined for the makeup. 

“A great disguise?” The Doctor asked, feeling his lips stick together with the new matte lipstick he was wearing. “I thought you liked makeup.”

“I do,” Missy nodded, starting to put her make up away neatly. “And I like disguises too but I’m not here to be in disguise, I’m here to be honest.”

“That’s why you’ve stopped wearing makeup? You want to be honest?”

“I want to engage with the process,” Missy said. “I want you to see the real me…or at least what’s left of me.” 

The Doctor frowned, considering her words. 

“I’ve always been able to see the real you, Missy,” the Doctor promised. “Whether or not you wear makeup doesn’t change that.”

XXXXXXXX

A few days later, the Doctor returned to the Vault after a day of lectures. To his surprise, Missy is sat on her bed, applying a coating of thick mascara to her lashes. 

“Back to disguises, Missy?”

“Well, a little dress up never hurt anyone.”


End file.
